


The Blood They Shed

by kachicu



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dark Forest (Warriors), Death, Guilt, I'm kinda figuring this out as I go along ngl, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kachicu/pseuds/kachicu
Summary: It's dark. It's so dark. And trapped under the crushing weight of his own guilt, Scourge thinks back to all the blood he's had on his paws only to realize that maybe he was wrong all along.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	The Blood They Shed

Dark. It was so dark. And yet somehow the gaping darkness could be welcoming should you look in the right places. But was there really a right place? This place was basically hell, everything was amiss there.  
  
  
  
The trees stood tall, casting dark shadows on the ground below. They seemed to swallow everything. Anything beneath the canopy of the trees was consumed by the dark and left alone in the heavy silence. But the thing was is that silence wasn't real in the Dark Forest. Voices whispered, their voices reminiscent of the screams of dying cats that were slaughtered under the claws of the cats who dwelled there.   
  
  
  
There would always be reminders of the blood on your paws. There'd always be voices reminding you of everything you'd ever done. Every life you'd ripped away, young and old. Standing in a puddle of blood, watching the life fade from vacant eyes.   
  
  
  
That was the life of those who were trapped in this place.  
  
  
  
Leaves crunched softly as Scourge stalked through the trunks of the trees that made up of the Dark Forest. His tail was held high, icy blue eyes gleaming as he kept his steady pace to wherever his feet took him. Sure, he was a small feline, yet his appearance was deceitful.

  
  
Everyone knew he'd started a clan in the streets. Everyone knew he'd clawed his way to the top of the system. They had no rules until Scourge claimed his place as the leader of BloodClan. Back there, the weak were left with nothing and rotted away into bones as the strong rose up to claim their territory and enforce their ways.

  
  
It could have been wrong, but how would they know? Scourge had been known as Tiny, just a runt to be tossed into the river to drown. He'd ensured that he was going to stay alive. Through a silver tongue and blood stained claws, he'd found his place in the world.  
  


  
His black pelt rippled as he waked, yet he came to a sudden pause at the sight of a tree trunk. The fur along his spine raised at the sight, something akin to nostalgia flashing through cold, lifeless eyes.

  
  
_The tabby launched himself at Tiny, making the kits fur raise as pure terror surged under his pelt. He was going to die he was going to diehewasgoingt-_  
  
  
  
Scourge shook his head, letting out a low hiss as he sank his claws into the dirt. He’d killed Tigerstar. Ever since that day that proved just how weak he had been, he'd thought of Tigerstar. And every day he'd tell himself that cat would die by his claws no matter what.  
  


  
And look where that led him.  
  


  
Something churned in his gut- guilt? He'd never had time to bask in the feeling. Every time the feeling would rise within him he'd shake it off like a cat clinging to his back in a fight. Every time his claws gorged into anyones flesh, drawing blood, he wouldn't allow himself a second thought of what he was doing.

  
The thought made Scourge pause.

  
The whispers grew louder.

  
  
How many lives had he taken on his conquest towards revenge? How many queens never returned to their wailing kits who slowly withered away without the care of their mother? How many kittypets never got to go back to their waiting owners who never knew the better of what happened to their companion? How many toms never got back to their families?

  
  
How much blood did he really have on his paws.

  
  
Scourge sucked in a shuddering breath, ears flicking back as the wretched feeling twisted harshly in his gut, making his claws sink deeper into the earth beneath him.

  
  
  
The whispers grew louder.

  
  
How much blood had he really shed?

Even if he hadn't realized it then, something sparked in him now and he couldn't stop the waves of guilt and sorrows crashing over him like the deadly waves of a storming ocean. Maybe he hadn't been right. Maybe all the lives he'd taken weren't worth it. 

Maybe if he had someone, he wouldn't have gone down this stupid path.

Guilt churned in his gut, sorrows crashed around in his chest.

The whispers grew louder.

Just how much blood had really been shed?

Had it really been worth it?


End file.
